Vegas is a confusing, overwhelming, daunting, looming kind of place. As soon as you step off the plane you're assaulted by dinging machines, smoky air, flashing lights, and throngs of tired, hungover people. Your eyes glaze over practically instantaneously and the sounds make you want to reach for an aspirin. Which is conveniently sold in machines lining the huge hallways.
Luckily my dad and I drove down here – essentially avoiding all the parts of Vegas that make you want to stab yourself.
The first time I came to Vegas I was 8, so let's ignore that for a minute because to me Vegas = stuffed animals, watching movies and ordering pizza with my older sister and cousin. Don't worry we also got to go to Disneyland on that trip.
So the REAL first time I went to Vegas was 2 and a half years ago. I came down with one of my good friends when our original trip (to Mexico) was canceled because of the swine flu. We spent pretty much the whole time lying on the “beach” at Mandalay and dancing at the clubs.
The next time I came down, a year later, was to visit my dad. My younger sister and I spent the week exploring the area around Vegas, the “local” hang-outs and of course, a few casinos.
Eight days in Vegas was actually very palatable when most of it was spent away from the strip.
Then there was BiSC (for those who don't know – rainbow amazing) but the problem lay in the fact that I stayed too long. Most people arrived Thursday or Friday and left Sunday. I arrived Wednesday and left late Monday night.
When you spend time in Vegas, on the strip, having an amazing time and then all of a sudden you're alone and your hotel room has too much oxygen and the finale of LOST is on but all you want to do is curl in a ball and rock yourself to sleep, weeping – well let's just say the thought of spending any more time in Vegas makes you want to punch small animals.
So naturally here I am – in Vegas. Again.
Nobody's ever accused me of being rational.